


This Love

by EllieCee



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, hehe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 08:40:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18426993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieCee/pseuds/EllieCee
Summary: Alistair is nothing but a thorn on Violetta Amell's side, but unfortunately she can't pluck him off. Not when they're the only two people left to save Ferelden from a certain doom. That is, if they don't end up killing each other first.





	This Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all...here is another attempt at a longfic. Maybe this time I'll go through with it.
> 
> I'm always a sucker for enemies to lovers and I especially love that dynamic with Alistair and the Warden.
> 
> I began this halfway through the game - starting from the beginning would take waaaay too long. So hopefully, this beginning isn't too abrupt.

The humidity was unpleasant in the Brecilian forest, and even more so when walking with damp socks. An Enchanter who’d gone on an academic retreat once complained about the horrors of humidity. Of course at the time, Violetta rarely remembered what outside air felt like.

 

But it was refreshing after, what according to Wynne was, almost a month in the Deep Roads.

 

Muddy, slushy ground was almost welcoming. At least she could see the sky. Being within walls of stone for so long again made her heart thud in a billion unpleasant ways. Trying to breathe became difficult and somehow, feeling the horrid Fereldan spring morph into summer was relief.

 

The thought of being within walls and walls of stone made her shake. She brushed it off, turning her attention to the never-ending maze of trees.

 

She felt her foot sink into a puddle of mud, wet earth seeping through the hole in her sole, soaking into her socks. She shuddered at the feeling and groaned, wiping the film of sticky sweat from her forehead. Violetta wondered how Finn would cope being outside the tower walls – he’d cringed at dust bunnies on his loafers.

 

“This is a good spot,” she heard Bodahn call from the the front. The sound of turning wheels halted as Bodahn clicked his tongue to halt the mount.

 

Maker knows that Violetta doesn’t know what makes a good spot, everything looked the same: brown and green and sometimes gray. But that wasn’t her worry for the moment, she’d let Bodahn or Zevran figure that out.

 

Right now she wants to sing praises to Andraste that she could take off her boots and clean her feet.

 

“You could easily spot an ambush from here, that’s good,” Zevran said, taking a quick look around, “And the lack of moving trees is also appreciated.”

 

 _Space to escape from Darkspawn is also appreciated,_ Violetta thought. She’d sooner zap any of them if they ever even suggested venturing back into the Deep Roads.

 

“If you fools would just let me take out a band of werewolves with a fireball we shan’t have this problem,” Morrigan quipped, as she put her things down, stabbing the soil with the bottom of her staff.

 

“We’d set the forest on fire,” Wynne said, following Alistair to unload the tents from Bodahn’s cart.

 

“There’s ways to control it, though I’m sure the Circle never taught you that,” Morrigan replied.

 

Violetta snorted, avoiding Wynne’s glare. She supposed she should help unload the tents, but her arms ached too much, and she knew being anywhere within Alistair’s peripheral vision would cause a squabble.

 

 

The sun set not too long after camp was settled. The canopy of thick leaves made it hard to see the sky. It’d almost been pitch black by the time she and Morrigan returned to camp with the kindling. She followed the light from the spell wisp Morrigan set in front of them.

 

“Your spells could attract bandits,” Alistair said.

 

“Tis a small wisp,” Morrigan replied, scowling, “One could mistake it for a firefly.”

 

“Still, you should’ve brought the torches.”

 

“Right, because a brighter light and smoke from a torch wouldn’t attract attention either?” Violetta snapped.

 

Alistair narrowed his eyes.

 

“It would, but not attention from any Templars. Which you don’t seem to be worried about, doing spells and blood magic so freely,” Alistair replied.

 

The ache and fatigue in Violetta’s bones boiled into irritation.

 

“Then you should’ve went and gotten the kindling yourself, since you seem to be the expert on it,” Violetta hissed.

 

Soft groans erupted from the party.

 

“Please, don’t,” Leliana muttered exhaustedly while setting up the pot, “Just put the kindling down so we can have dinner.”

 

“Well someone needed to stay here and prepare the game for dinner,” Alistair shot back.

 

This time, Zevran released a tired sigh.

 

“It shouldn’t have been you, you’re shit at de-boning it,” Violetta spat.

 

“ _Please,_ for the love of Andraste put the bloody kindling down and shut it!”

 

Everyone turned wide-eyed at Leliana, who nearly rubbed her forehead raw.

 

“I apologize,” she sighed, “Everyone’s tired and hungry. All we want is a peaceful night.”

 

It’d been two weeks since the Deep Roads and a week since their arrival at the Dalish camp. The horrors of the Deep Roads had not left anyone’s minds yet.

 

Violetta shot Alistair a dirty look before laying the kindling under the pot. She quickly set it ablaze with a small fire.

 

“Sorry, Leliana,” she apologized.

 

Leliana stood to fetch the ingredients.

 

“If you could, for tonight,” she began, glancing between Alistair and Violetta, “Stay on opposite sides of this campfire so no more fights erupt.”

 

“Not a problem,” Alistair grumbled under his breath as he handed Leliana the ram meat.

 

Violetta turned away and took a deep breath, willing the irritation out of her veins.

 

 

Leliana was right. Dinner was indeed peaceful, so long as both Violetta and Morrigan sat together, at least three feet away from Alistair.

 

It was after shapeshifting lessons that exhaustion began to seep into her bones.

 

“You almost had it,” Morrigan said, shaking her head.

 

The metallic taste of lyrium potion lingered in Violetta’s tongue. Her head had become too cloudy to concentrate.

 

“I’ll try again,” she began, drawing the very little energy left from her mana reserve.

 

She pictured the spider once more, putting herself in its place. For a brief moment, she felt as if she could move three more limbs, until an ache in her head broke her concentration. Out of breath, she fell to her knees and coughed.

 

“Amell, you’re going to kill yourself,” Morrigan said, “I told you we should try something easier. My first shapeshift was a sparrow.”

 

Violetta groaned. She was tired of picturing the same hideous spider in her head.

 

“A sparrow won’t help in battle,” she replied.

 

Morrigan sighed.

 

“Better to figure out a sparrow than to do a half-arsed spider in the middle of battle.”

 

Violetta felt sweat soak through her tunic.

 

“Go to sleep,” Morrigan said softly.

 

“I won’t be able to sleep knowing I was this close,” Violetta argued.

 

Morrigan shook her head again.

 

“As your teacher, I command you to go to sleep. Isn’t that how it works in the Circle?” she said, laughing.

 

Violetta chuckled.

 

“Go to sleep,” Morrigan repeated.

 

Violetta hesitantly admitted defeat and picked up her staff.

 

“Fine,” she finally said, giving Morrigan a soft smile.

 

Morrigan returned it and walked to the far edge of camp.

 

Violetta dragged her feet to her tent, the soft breeze and quiet making her raging headache louder. She pressed two fingers against her forehead and surged a healing spell, but her mana lacked the energy. The throbbing lightened, but not enough to make her wince at the bright light emanating from the camp fire.

 

She’d used the last bottle of lyrium during the lessons.

 

She glanced quickly by Bodahn’s cart, quickly finding him, Sandal, and the mount asleep. She didn’t have the energy to bother them for flasks, nor to bother setting up the alchemy materials by the fire.

 

She’ll have to make them tomorrow, unfortunately for her raging headache.

 

As she opened the flap of her tent, she spotted a fennec wriggling by the bushes behind. Something sparked in her head, although she knew for sure it’d be to the nuisance of Wynne and Alistair, who sat just by the fire across.

 

But then again, she is no longer within stone walls. Her exhaustion turned into irritation, and then spite. Enough to stalk the poor fennec in the bushes. She knew Wynne and Alistair glanced over curiously.

 

She found it, huddled in the corner.

 

As quietly as she could, she focused on the unsuspecting fennec until she felt it’s energy. As she directed it to herself, it let out an unholy screech. She shut her eyes as she felt her mana revitalize; she wouldn’t kill it, she would take just enough for a small healing spell.

 

“What in Andraste’s name are you doing?”

 

Her concentration broke, just before her mana refilled. The spell dissipated and the fennec ran weakly into the deeper bushes.

 

“You broke the spell!” she spat, standing up and brushing her knees.

 

“What are you killing an innocent animal for?” Alistair asked.

 

“I need mana, you clotpole! I have a raging headache. I wasn’t going to kill the thing!” she said, pushing past him and towards her tent.

 

“So you go and hurt a poor animal when you could just sleep?” Alistair asked.

 

Violetta turned at her heel and looked him square in the eyes.

 

“How is it different from you and Leliana hunting for game?”

 

Alistair looked at her, angry but wordless, and took great pleasure from it.

 

“We need to eat!” he argued as she turned.

 

“And I want my headache to stop!”

 

Alistair groaned.

 

“So you just use magic however you want?”

 

“Yes!” she exclaimed, as she slipped into her tent, roughly pulling the flaps shut.

 

“Stop fighting!” she head Zevran call.

 

“Then tell her to stop being so fucking selfish!” she heard Alistair growl in response.

 

Violetta held back the urge to render lightning from her fingertips and zap him. She took a deep breath and crawled into bedroll, ignoring the small argument between Zevran and Alistair outside.

 

_Fuck him. Fuck that stupid boy._

 

Her headache still raged on.

**Author's Note:**

> If you caught the Merlin reference you win


End file.
